Sending You A Little Christmas
by Dragon's Daughter 1980
Summary: A story about the Christmas holidays for the PotterWeasley family when duty forces distance. A continuation of the 'I Know You By Heart' storyline
1. Hermione

Sending You A Little Christmas

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

* * *

A photograph, a blanket,  
Some mistletoe, confetti snow,  
An angel to put on a tree,  
Santa Claus in crayon,  
To make you smile today;  
While you're so far away.

Snow piled up outside the comfortable, discreet home in the middle of an ordinary neighborhood. It was a few days before schools let out for the Christmas holidays and holiday cheer was already in the air, up and down the street — except, that is, at the Weasley residence. Yes, there was a wreath on the front door, but the festive spirit was missing. No Christmas lights hung from the rooftops, no Christmas carols sung, no snowmen (or women) in the front yard, no snowball fights. It had been missing ever since the husband had left for a business trip several weeks ago.

The neighbors shook their heads and murmured remarks about employers being so demanding these days that people were forced to work even during holidays. There was a general outpouring of sympathy for the mother and her two young children. Whenever the father worked overseas, which was an occasional occurrence, he tended to be gone for long stretches of time. Neighbors took care to be kind to the family, inviting them to social gatherings or offering to shovel out the driveway.

Normally, the neighbors left the Weasley family to their own devices; they were a nice, but rather unusual household. When she was around, the wife was normal enough and friendly too, who wouldn't mind chatting for a few brief moments while trying to manage two young children and work at the same time. The husband, when he was around, was judged as a bit _odd_; he tended to avoid talking with his neighbors and sometimes acted as if he had grown up in a different world where daily necessities were a rarity. He was a very loving father and husband, despite the occasional rows the couple had over petty things. To the people living on the block, the general consensus was that the Weasleys were kind people and good neighbors who never gave any reason for compliant, unless it was the bizarre behavior of the in-laws.

Inside the house, Hermione Weasley looked at the half-folded letter that lay on the formal mahogany dinner table and sighed quietly to herself as she put down her knitting, wishing that her worries would just leave her be. The letter had arrived in her inbox at work just before she left for the Christmas holidays. Once she had seen the handwriting, she'd hurried home, not wishing to be distracted from the letter's contents by her coworkers. She wanted to avoid any awkward moments if one of them walked into her office to find her blushing like a schoolgirl. (Hermione had been pleasantly surprised in her six years of marriage to find that her husband was a closet poet.)

But instead of lifting her spirits with good tidings, the news was disappointing. Ron would not be home for Christmas, neither would Harry. The current mission they were on was too volatile to allow two of the commanding Aurors to return home for the holidays. Christmas, a time for family, and they could not be present. How would she explain it to her daughters? How would she explain the complex situation in Assyria to toddlers? Maria was just learning to talk and, while Lily was her mother's daughter, she couldn't possibly comprehend something that even had Hermione's head spinning in circles.

Lily and Maria Weasley, nearly ages two and one respectively, were sleeping in their playpen about two meters away from where Hermione was sitting. Penelope Weasley, one of Hermione's many sisters-in-law, had just left with her children after baby-sitting Hermione's children so she could work a short three hour shift at the Ministry's office. Penelope empathized with Hermione over the fact that two of the Weasley family would not be home for Christmas. At least her Percy was now amiable to any excuse for him to spend more time with his growing family, though he was still a devoted worker of the Ministry.

Hermione sighed again. The Ministry had sent a letter to her a few days before, offering her free mailing service for a Christmas care package to Ron. She had ignored it, believing that he would make it home for Christmas. Now that it was not to be, she would begin to prepare the box for Ron and Harry. If they couldn't come home, home would come to them. She briefly smiled at the visions conjured up by the thought of the sudden appearance of the Weasley clan at the British embassy in Assyria.

It was never easy being the wife of an Auror: unknown risks, long hours, no word for weeks, even months at a time. Who knew how long this mission in Assyria would last? Sometimes, Hermione would lay awake at night, missing Ron's presence by her side, praying that he and Harry and everyone else on their team would come back home safe with no injuries.

In the back of her mind, she was always afraid of a day when the doorbell would ring and she would open it to find Kingsley standing on the doorstep with a chaplain behind him. Or she'd be in the office and hear a knock on her door and see Arthur standing there in shock to deliver the bad news. Hermione worked hard to ignore her fears, trying to label them as irrational — but they weren't. Most, but not all, of the Death Eaters had been caught in the six or so years of peace the world had had. But there were surely a few diehard supporters who had evaded the Ministry who wouldn't mind the distinction of killing Harry Potter or his best friend and brother-in-law, Ron Weasley. She rarely contemplated the idea that she was an even more vulnerable target for retaliation.

* * *

Hermione looked at the objects she had gathered to send as a Christmas box. She smiled as she picked up a photograph of Lily, Maria, and herself playing in the winter snow in front of their home. Ron had taken it the day before he was suddenly called to his office. 

As in accordance with tradition, Molly had knitted another Weasley sweater — except this one had the look of a fuzzy T-shirt. (Hermione was fairly sure that Ron wasn't going to be wearing it, sleeves or no sleeves. It was too hot in Assyria. In fact, in his letter, Ron had…) Hermione blushed slightly as she completed the thought before she turned her attention to the next present to be wrapped. Arthur had discovered the joys of electric fans and was now sharing that joy with his youngest son. Bill ('_Must be in a morbid fit of humor_', Hermione thought as she packed his gift, carefully labeled 'Warning: open with caution, love') had given Ron a realistic model of a mummified spider, Fleur was giving Ron a book on translating cuneiform (which was rather puzzling to Hermione until she recalled Ron's boredom with guard duty — she hoped that it would stay that way).

There was a small hill of treats from Fred and George while Angelina and Katie had taken it upon themselves to write down all the prospects for the World Cup with detailed analysis for the outlook of each team (Hermione had no idea where her sisters-in-law had found the time to do so). Hermione trusted Ron enough to know that he would treat Fred and George's treats with caution, though maybe not around his colleagues. She hoped he wouldn't leave them where some unsuspecting politician would eat them. It would certainly cause a political uproar if some Minister or diplomat or pompous, important idiot turned into a Canary, even for five seconds.

Charlie had bought a miniature model of a Norwegian Ridgeback who looked very similar to Nobert; his wife Nora sent him a few ancient Assyrian coins that she had unearthed while working on the reservation. Percy's children had created several handmade angels with crooked wings while Percy and Penelope had thoughtfully thrown in medical kit for scrapes and insect bites as well as heatstroke, and Ginny would be packing her gift in Harry's box.

Hermione added a package of homemade cookies, sealed in a freshness-charmed package. Then she recorded a tape of greetings from Lily and Maria, who gurgled happily and chanted "Daddy, love Daddy," over and over. Hermione put in a crayon-marked picture that both daughters had worked without bickering. A few non-magical photos for both men to share of their families were tucked into protective sheets. Then on top, she placed two creamy white envelopes: one held a personal message for her spouse; the other was addressed to Harry. With a smile, Hermione first scattered a generous layer of confetti snow in the box and then charmed it to drift down harmlessly in the air when the box was opened.

Hermione gently kissed the sprig of mistletoe before she laid it in the box on top of the letter and closed its lid. She hoped that enough of her perfume would remain, so that when Ron opened the package, he would be surrounded by the smell of the home the two of them had worked so hard to buy. It would let him come home to them, even if it was for only a few seconds. She wrapped up the box and set it aside. She would send it tomorrow.

So I'm sending you a little Christmas,  
Wrapped up with love.  
A little peace, a little light,  
To remind you of  
How I'm waiting for you, praying for you  
I wanted you to see.  
So I'm sending you a little Christmas,  
Till you come home to me.

Dear Ron,

In our six years of marriage, we've never been apart for Christmas holidays. Unless you count the time you pulled the Christmas shift and got called out to deal with a few troublemakers and then cracked your head on a doorway and ended up in St. Mungo's for a few hours and I told you to be more careful. Even when you had to go to Manchester stop those Death Eaters on Christmas Eve a few years ago and I was worried half to death along with everyone else, you weren't that far away. It is truly our first Christmas apart and I miss you so much. I hope that things are safe there.

I'm off of work for the rest of the month (I'm thinking that my boss believes that I spend too much time at the office and is forcing me to take this vacation. I can't say that I resent the prospect of spending more time at home with Lily and Maria, though I am certain I'll suffer cabin fever) and your mother has invited us over to the Borrow for the holidays. I'm wondering how she's going to fit everyone in the house, but she'll manage. Or get someone to expand the house temporarily. Or move the gathering.

Things are peaceful here. Don't worry about us here at home. Your brothers and father spent one whole day setting wards on the house. Fred and George enjoyed it a little too much, I fear. I am a little worried that one day, one of the neighbors will do something and they'll end up with bright pink hair or something that will require the Ministry to sent Obliviators out here. The good news is that we do have a permit for private protection wards and I've tinkered with them. Penelope baby-sits for me when Erica has to finish up her degree at Fairwood or help Vivien out with business. All of us wear our emergency charms twenty-four/seven and it isn't like I haven't noticed that the Lennoxs down the street work for the Ministry in the Auror division. You knew about them when I asked you, didn't you?

The neighbors have been unusually nice these days and they bemoan the cruel work ethics imposed by the Ministry. They all think you work for some nice private company though, not as an Auror. Lily and Maria are fine; they just miss their daddy. I am too. Maria is, as you will hear, becoming quite vocal. It still amazes me how quickly she is learning new words. Lily is beginning to talk in complete sentences now. I am holding up fairly well; however, I will wait fervently for the day I'll be able to hold you again. I pray that you'll be safe and that you and Harry come home soon to us. Be careful. I love you.

Happy Christmas, love, with lots of kisses,

Hermione

**Author's Note: **This story was acutallywritten about a year ago, which makes this story pre-HBP. I hope this will clear up any confusion that might arise.


	2. Ginevra

Sending You A Little Christmas

By Dragon's Daughter

* * *

Some gingerbread, a candy cane,  
A stocking I made with your name.  
I filled it with your favorite things.  
A way to say I love you,  
Like kisses in the air,  
Hoping you'll feel me there.

In a spacious, yet cozy, kitchen, two women were busy making holiday cookies for the annual family Christmas party while their children napped nearby. A third woman had gone out into the light snowfall to the local grocery store to buy extra baking ingredients, leaving her youngest children under her friends' watchful eyes. The house was quiet, except for the tinkling sounds of glassware and metal being shifted or the rumpling of paper as the women reached for more flour. While they engaged in peaceful domestic activity and cooked without magic, it was not an idle coincidence that their wands rested on the countertop within reach.

"Ginny?" Her friend's concerned voice drew Ginevra Potter from her thoughts.

"What?" Ginny looked down at the batter mix she was stirring absent-mindedly, checking for any lumps or spills.

"Nothing," Hermione replied as she rolled out the cookie dough, "other than that you've been very distracted this whole time."

"I'm sorry. I just keep thinking about Harry —"

"I understand," Hermione said quietly.

Ginny sighed.

"How do you do it Hermione? I thought it was bad when Harry was on that mission before we got married, and then worse when he was caught up in those investigations when I was pregnant, but now…" She glanced over at the cradle that held Julianne Potter, the first of the new Potter bloodline. Hermione followed her sister-in-law's look and nodded.

"I know. You're afraid that you'll be left to raise Julianne."

"I know I shouldn't worry like this and that Harry will come home, but…"

"I've stopped watching the news," admitted Hermione, "even the Muggle news. There is just so much violence, and to even think about Ron or Harry getting caught in the middle…" She shook her head.

"It's just so hard sometimes. How do you do it, Hermione? Facing the idea that you might have to raise Lily and Maria alone? Have you got used to Ron going away on missions?"

Her friend smiled sadly, "No, it still hurts every time and I don't think I'll ever get use to it. As for coping, I just work and don't think about it. I work until I'm so tired that I go straight to sleep at night. And… what is it that Samantha says?"

"'You've got to believe he'll come home safe to you,'" Ginny quoted, then laughed without mirth, "She's certainly right. I would go crazy otherwise."

The two heard the front door close and footsteps in the front hall. Both women's floured hands reached for their wands, but they relaxed when they saw who it was. Their friend smiled slightly in approval at them, knowing what their instinctive reactions had been.

"It isn't as bad as it seems, or could be." Samantha Black walked into the room. She set down the bags of groceries she carried. "They're only guards for the embassy. Nothing more." She smiled sadly, anticipating their question, "And no, girls, I don't know when they'll be back. The moment I know, you'll know."

Samantha opened the refrigerator to put the milk and eggs in. Hermione opened the new bag of flour and added a few handfuls to her dough.

"Could you hand me some milk?" asked Ginny, just as Samantha handed her a half-liter. She stirred it in smoothly and set the glass measuring cup down on the counter. "It just seems so —"

"Heartless?" Samantha finished for her godson's wife. She shut the fridge door and walked over to where her children were napping. "Yes," she replied, gently stroking her son's hair and then tucking in the blanket more securely around her daughter's sleeping form, "but politics is heartless and whoever is threatening the peace talks is heartless."

"Do you know who it is?" asked Hermione, briefly shifting into work mode.

"It isn't my field and I doubt I know anyone who is in charge of handling that sort of information who would talk to me or have the time to. They'd either be busy with the diplomats here or in the States or in Assyria or Israel or Palestine or any of the Arab states trying to broker a peace deal that will make the majority happy. If it is serious enough, then there are probably people handling it right now." She sighed, "though Muggle channels are sometimes no swifter than wizarding ones."

"Bad?" Ginny poured the batter into the baking pan as the timer chirped and Hermione opened the oven to remove a fresh batch of cookies. Samantha took a glass bowl out of the cabinet and began to prepare a batch of frosting for Ginny's cake.

"Things are settling down, but you know how things are," Samantha smiled wryly as she added cream into her bowl. "If it isn't one thing, then it's another. That's the way the world is and that's how politics are."

The other two agreed. Samantha had grown up in a family involved in politics, had been dragged into more messes than she wanted to remember, and entered into a then politically acceptable marriage; she usually knew what was going on. Ginny had seen her share of politics as Harry Potter's wife as well as with her father's position at the Ministry. Hermione, with her job as an Unspeakable, dealt with politics on a daily basis, though she was 'given quite a bit of free rein regarding paperwork,' as she put it.

* * *

Ginny went into the master bedroom and sat on her side of the bed, reaching down to pick up her knitting basket that she kept by the bedside. She put it firmly in her lap and began to sort through the assorted stockings she had made in her spare time when she couldn't sleep. She smiled as she pulled out a fire-orange one that had a crowned Quaffle bouncing around. A few more moments of fishing and she had a furry red stocking with a golden snitch flittering all over the fabric in her hands. Putting the other stockings back in the basket and the basket on the ground, she rose from the bed and went into the kitchen where Harry's Christmas presents were scattered on the dining table.

As she had done for years, Molly had knitted a Weasley sweater for Harry, an exact duplicate of Ron's — except this one was green instead of orange. Ginny had no idea where her mother had gotten the impression that Assyria was anything but a desert in which temperatures frequently hit thirty-nine degrees Celsius and above. Her father had written a long letter to Harry, which made Ginny suspicious, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't break the security spells on it. It was rather frustrating.

Bill and Fleur's presents were several books, one of which was a hieroglyph translation book and another about ancient French wizarding culture. Ginny had raised an eyebrow at some of the more explicit sketches in the history book, but trusted Harry enough to know he wouldn't get any ideas. Charlie had somehow gotten his hands on a miniature model of a Chinese Fireball, probably still teasing Harry about his first reaction to his godmother's furious family guardian; Nora's accompanying gift was a book on dragon handling. Ginny had checked to make sure that there were no native dragons in Harry's proximity. Percy's children had created the annual Christmas card while being supervised by their parents. Percy and Penelope had thoughtfully thrown in medical kit for scrapes and insect bites as well as heatstroke. Ginny shook her head; sometimes she wished her brother would lighten up a little.

Hermione had bought a book for Harry, one that gave a detailed analysis of the conflicts, both magical and non-magical, that plagued Assyria. Angelina and Katie had managed to organize a complete scrapbook of Christmas greetings from the members of the first D.A. meeting all the way back in Ginny's fourth year, when everything was coming apart. Ginny tucked a tiny golden toy Snitch into the stocking, as well as a few of Fred and George's inventions mixed in with some chocolate. Harry would never know what hit him. And if he shared the socking with Ron, as he most assuredly would… A small smile worked its way onto Ginny's face as she put a Cooling Charm on the box of Sugar Quills, not sure whether or not the sweets would melt in the heat of the Middle Eastern sun. She knew she was a little devious, but she had to be with her six older brothers.

She put in a little tape she had made, wishing Harry a Happy and safe Christmas, reading a letter she had written to him. Ginny had been a little nervous speaking into the black little box, but with a little practice and a lot of advice and help from Hermione, she was able to record what she wanted to say. Finally, the letter, addressed to him in her flowing handwriting, went on top. With that done, Ginny put the gift on the foyer table so she wouldn't forget to take it to the Ministry the next day.

So I'm sending you a little Christmas,  
Wrapped up with love.  
A little peace, a little light,  
To remind you of  
How I'm waiting for you, praying for you  
I wanted you to see.  
So I'm sending you a little Christmas,  
Till you come home to me.

Dear Harry,

Happy Christmas. Yes, I know, it's our first Christmas apart after we got married, and I miss you too. Everything at home is under control, which is quite unusual for me. Fred and George try to cheer me up each time they think I'm moping. Don't they understand I don't mope? I can pine for you, but I don't mope. At least, not in front of them. Don't worry, nothing is going to happen. I'm not going to burn the house down when I forget to turn off the stove (Samantha, Hermione, Penelope, Fleur, Nora, Angelina, Katie, and Mum helped me fireproof the kitchen the other day) and no one is going to kidnap me or Julianne. (I'd like to see them get past the wards Dad, Bill, Charlie, and Percy set — even Fred and George sacrificed one Sunday afternoon to bait traps for the journalists. So far, only one reporter has dared to test the wards. She ended up with bright green freckles and hair — quite a sight I'll tell you. Plus, Samantha and her friends came by. I suspect they did something with the wards, even though they deny it.) When I have to go to the office, Samantha or Sirius will take Julianne to Fairwood with them. Both of us always wear the emergency charms you gave us.

Julianne is beginning to teeth and she's babbling every day. She's added "An Er-my-o-e" and "An Pe-el-no-pe" to "Daddy," "Mummy," "Grandda," "Granny," and "'ncle Ron." But everything is certainly quite calm over here. I hope everything is safe over there. _The Daily Prophet_ hasn't reported any massive event going on, so I'm assuming you're safe with Ron. I hope my brother doesn't become too much of a git over there; it's understandable, but try to keep him busy.

Samantha has been a big comfort in supporting the both of us while you're away. We're all waiting for the little bird to sing. Mum's invited the clan for Christmas at the Burrow. I'm not quite sure what she's thinking — it was crowded enough with seven children, and now we all have spouses and kids… I really don't know how we're all going to fit. It's more likely than not that I'll be hosting the party here in Godric's Hallow or Samantha will lend us her house for two weeks. We all miss you Harry and I wish that you could be with us this year. We'll be thinking about you often. Be safe and be careful and try not to find trouble — yes, I know, it usually finds you, but do try to avoid it when you can. I love you always.

Lots of hugs and kisses,  
Ginny

P.S. When you do come home, Samantha and Sirius have volunteered to take Julianne for a few days. So we can get some alone time. Are you interested Mr. Potter?

Home - into these arms of mine.  
Home where you belong.

**Author's Notes/Disclaimer**: Anything that seems familiar here is not mine. The song is indeed called 'Sending You a Little Christmas' by Jim Brickman (who is a fabulous piano performer) and sung by Kristy Starling. I highly recommend it. I hope to continue my work on 'There's A Place' over the holiday season. I've been doing NaNo for the past month and school seems to be finally calming down for winter break. So thank you for your patience. Thanks to Beth for all her help and advice for this story.

_Season's Greetings and a Happy, Prosperous New Year to everyone!_


End file.
